


parallel

by buttered_onions



Series: Dust: a Voltron Daemon AU [2]
Category: His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman, Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Daemons, Daemons, Gen, Platonic VLD Week 2017, more tags to be added throughout the week, now with more friends :), slight spoilers for season 4, yep the daemon AU continues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-30
Updated: 2017-11-04
Packaged: 2019-01-26 14:13:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12559180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buttered_onions/pseuds/buttered_onions
Summary: The failure of the Kerberos mission changes everything.Posted as a chaptered fill for vldplatonicweek:Day Two: Inside/Outside. Keith and his daemon...adjust.Day Three: Trick/Treat. Pidge and her daemon keep their promise.Day Five: Change/Growth. Keith and Tarryn learn to wait, and to react.Day Six: Distance/Proximity. Shiro returns home.





	1. settle

**Author's Note:**

> This has been a very, very long time coming. I won't tell you how long, but - thank you for your patience. Thanks to [platonicvldweek](http://platonicvldweek.tumblr.com) and [bosstoaster](http://bosstoaster.tumblr.com) for your encouragement and the boost to finally let these see the light of day. And thank you, [Andy](http://ashinan.tumblr.com), for holding my hand when I was first writing these. 
> 
> This fic will be updated in four parts throughout the rest of the week. It's not necessary to read [897-A](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8614594) before reading this fic, but it might help.
> 
> Enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _a fill for[platonicvldweek](http://platonicvldweek.tumblr.com), day two: inside/outside_

“It’ll pass quickly,” Shiro says. It’s the night before the Kerberos mission. Rielle races in circles ahead of them, graceful and smooth across the even stones of the officers’ courtyard. Tarryn weaves with her, chasing the wolf as a sleek retriever. Shiro and Keith sit on the steps, watching. “You could be graduated by the time I get back.”

“Could be,” Keith says. That’s the plan, at least. Work hard, get it done early, get out there next time. Don’t be left behind. “I’ll be here when you get back, though.”

Shiro draws in a deep breath, a level disagreement. “Keith, I don’t want you to stall - “

“The ceremony’s always on the fifteenth. You’re due back on the third,” Keith interrupts. His fingers tap on his knees. “I’ll be here.”

Shiro lets it go, only faintly surprised. “You have the itinerary memorized?”

“Someone’s got to keep an eye out for you,” Keith says, with a shrug he hopes is casual. It’s not; Shiro’s eyes soften imperceptibly. Dammit.

“It’s only a year,” Shiro says. “A lot can happen.”

“I know.”

“Don’t be that way,” Shiro says, frowning. “Possibility can be a good thing. Who knows? Maybe she’ll settle while I’m gone.”

Tarryn yips at Rielle’s tail, playful. Rielle’s been settled for ages; Keith barely remembers what she was like before, if she changed shapes often, if she was ever small enough to check around corners for Shiro, turn pages, slip under doors. Rielle’s been steady as long as he’s known them. Steadfast, and strong, like the man sitting by Keith’s side, ready to leave for uncharted territory - tomorrow.

Keith’s nowhere near constant enough for Tarryn to _settle._

“Maybe,” Keith says. Tarryn glances back at him.

“Hey.” Shiro bumps into his shoulder, drawing him out. Rielle nudges Tarryn back into their game. “You’re going to be fine. It’s just a year.”

“You’d better be too,” Keith tells him. “Be careful.”

“I promise,” Shiro says, and he’s smiling, “And I expect to be at your graduation two weeks after I get back. So stay out of trouble.”

“Okay,” Keith says, and it’s as close to a promise as he can get.

 

Shiro doesn't come back.

 

Keith doesn’t go to class. He goes anywhere _but_ class. He goes to the training rooms, pounding his anger into the bags. Pummeling dummies with fencing swords. Anything for something to _do,_ something to fill the gaping void that’s opening up inside him, a loss he can’t -

He turns in early. Stares at the ceiling for hours. Tarryn presses up against him, her form flickering canine - she thinks better of it immediately, shifting into the _felidae_ family instead, an ocelot, purring gently against his chest. Keith wraps his arms around her. Holds tight.

He dreams.

_Shiro and the two other crew members staticked across the TV screen, burned forever on Keith’s brain as clear as the Galaxy Garrison insignia behind them. He’ll never be able to unsee it. Gone. Pilot error. Pilot -_

_“Keith,” Shiro says, from inside the television. “You’re going to be fine, I promise - “_

_Find me._

Keith sits bolt upright, breathing hard. The dormitory is pitch black. No light shines from under the hall door, and there’s no moon. Tarryn nudges him, licks his sweaty face with her rough tongue. Keith lets her, eyes shuddering closed.

“You had it too?” she whispers. Over her tiny head the window affords the perfect view of the desert, stretching deep and wide and dark.

“Just a dream,” Keith says.

 

Keith cuts class. He’s in the engineer’s bay, studying models of the same ship that flew the _Kerberos_ mission, looking for faults. He’s in the labs, combing through samples, poring over data, searching for any clue. Tarryn perches on his shoulder, a kestrel with sharp eyes. She snaps her beak at anyone who comes close. They keep looking. Something, anything. Anything to make sense of the void, this hole that gets bigger and bigger, something to _do_ , he can’t _-_

He ignores the summons blinking on the console outside his room, and turns in early. Tarryn crawls under the covers with him, a black labrador with warm paws. He doesn’t correct her tonight.

Keith dreams.

_Shiro and the - the others. Staticked. Gone. Pilot error. Pilot -_

_“Keith,” Shiro says, from inside. The Garrison symbol behind his picture is gone, the desert stretching into caves and cliffs._

_Find me -_

Keith sits bolt upright, breathing hard. The sliver of moon shines in through the window, casting shadows on the floor from his bed, the desk, the shelves. Tarryn butts her head against his knee. She’s a cat again, a large tabby. He buries his fingers in her smooth fur.

“Did you hear it too?” she whispers.

Over the desk the window affords the perfect view of the desert. The moon cuts over the ridges, chasing them into darkness he can’t make out. 

“I don’t know,” Keith says.

 

Keith doesn’t report for the summons. He’s in the flight simulator every second it’s not in use and even when it should be, stealing training flights and runs he’s not authorized for. Shiro is - _was_ \- a stellar pilot; several of the simulations have his name as the top record, his flight path a ghost Keith races again and again. He wins, but not the way he wants. The ghost doesn’t tell him of any _errors_. It doesn’t tell him where Shiro is. It doesn’t let him come back.

Keith cuts class, cuts corners, gets called in and only goes when they drag him. He’s yelled at. He yells back.

He curls up at night, just him and his daemon, alone. He can't.

He dreams.

_“Keith,” Shiro says. Keith turns away from the television but Shiro isn’t there. His voice is on the wind, lost in an echo over cliffs and sand._

_“I don’t know what you want me to do,” Keith tells the desert. It’s not a cry. He’s not desperate. He’s…_

_Shiro doesn’t answer. The desert echoes back, a whisper lost in caves, scratched on a wall._

Keith sits bolt upright, breathing hard. The moon’s thicker now, streaking in through the curtains. He pulls them aside. 

Tarryn stirs behind him, stretches in the abandoned bed. When she hops lightly up to the desk to reach his height, coming to his side, she’s still a fox, silent on careful feet.

“Tomorrow,” Keith starts, by way of answer. The moon lights the desert in harsh dips, curves of mystery. 

“I know,” Tarryn says. Her voice is soft and small. 

“I don’t care what they do,” Keith says. “I’m not going to stay here like this.”

“It’s alright,” Tarryn says. “They’re wrong about a lot of things. Did you see, though? In your dreams. I had them, too.”

Through the glass the desert stretches, massive and calling. There are caves out there, caves with drawings. Caves with clues.

_Find me._

“Yes,” Keith says.

“They’re going to expel us,” Tarryn says, nudging at his ear.

The desert stares back at them, enormous and full of secrets.

“Not if we leave first,” Keith says.

 

“Sure about this?” Tarryn asks the next morning, curled around his neck. It’s her second day in a row as a fox, her red coat sleek and smooth under the harsh sun beating down on them.

Keith doesn’t have much with him. Everything he wants to take from the Garrison either fits in his backpack or already left.

The desert stretches before them, wide and yawning. The breeze tugs at his hair, too long.

“I’m sure,” he says.

The desert calls.


	2. shift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’d better,” Pidge says. Altimus lands on her shoulder, tucking his wings proudly to his sides. “Or we’re coming up to space and getting you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _a fill for[platonicvldweek](http://platonicvldweek.tumblr.com), day three: **trick** /treat_  
>  _aka the closest to halloween you're gonna get me_
> 
>   
>  Thank you all for the comments, kudos, and your kind words! I'm so glad everyone is as excited about this as I am. Here's a little bit of a different direction. <3
> 
> Super minor spoiler for season four in here. Enjoy!

“No,” Katie says, “It’s the only way. We’re lucky you haven’t settled yet.”

Insanely lucky. She can barely think about it, about chances blown past, answers lost. Iverson’s grip on her arm, carting her off the campus weeks ago. Her fingers clench around the sink.

Altimus presses his cold nose to her cheek where he’s perched on her shoulder. He fits still, a young marten curled up small. “Lucky’s one word for it. Something new, then? I don’t remember what all I was.”

“We weren’t really there that long,” Katie consoles him. Another small blessing. She’d barely had time to unpack. Her suitcase sits empty on her bed; the duffel bag by the door is full. Her mom won’t miss it.

Altimus hesitates, tiny nose crinkled in thought. “What if we settle while we’re at school?”

Katie’s eye catches the photograph still taped to the mirror. Matt hugs her tightly across the shoulders, both of them grinning, while Altimus and Lynnilia play in the air behind their shoulders. Altimus had been a beautiful warbler that day; Lynnilia a strong starling, her form frozen only in film and time. Highly unorthodox for a space exploration crew member to fly with an unsettled daemon - Katie remembers the paperwork - but Holts usually settle late. Everything had worked out, then.

Altimus shifts into a bird briefly, a tiny finch winging off her shoulder and onto the faucet.

“It’s just for a little while,” Katie says, to her daemon. To the mirror. “Just until we find them. Then you can be whatever you want.”

“Okay,” Altimus says. He preens at his feathers, small and new.

_First day of school._

Katie picks up the scissors.

  

If this - all of this - is the price to pay to get their family back?

Katie and Altimus will do whatever it takes.

 

“Ren?” Katie - _Pidge_ asks, staring at her daemon in incredulous disgust. “Seriously?”

“You picked Pidge,” Altimus says, fluffing his chest of feathers defensively.

“Matt called me that,” Pidge says. “At least mine’s believable.”

“Lynn liked it,” Altimus argues, folding his wings in a huff and a sulk. “Let me try it. Just watch.”

“No one’s gonna buy it,” Pidge says.

 

“Ren?” the check-in officer says, behind the tall counter. He squints down at Pidge.

“That’s right,” Pidge says. “R-e-n.” She won’t squirm. Her heart’s pounding. Altimus’s fluttering just as fast where he’s pressed into the side of her neck, perched as a robin on her shoulder.

“Wren,” the officer repeats slowly, studying Altimus carefully. Pidge braces herself. “You trying to influence what she settles as, boy?”

The relief nearly knocks her to her knees. “Leave her alone,” Pidge says, aiming for offended instead.

The officer just chuckles. “Take it from me, kid. That never works. I knew a guy who called his daemon Claw for all her life. Claw settled as a fish. Useless to anyone. Just goes to show, huh?”

“Huh,” Pidge says, weakly.

“What’s her real name, then?”

“Renée,” Pidge blurts creatively. Altimus - _Ren_ \- digs his claws into her shoulder ever so slightly. “It’s, uh, French.”

The officer makes a note on her tablet. “Doesn’t say much, does she?”

“New experiences,” Pidge lies. She’s glad her hands have something to hold, gripping the duffel bag tightly, so the officer won’t see them shaking. They’re so close -

“Just be careful with the nicknames, kid,” the officer says good-naturedly, and makes a final note. “Now, it looks like you’ve already been assigned - wow, lucky you. A single room opened up a couple days ago in the L sector. It isn’t the dorms with the other boys, but if you wanted -“

“That’s fine,” Pidge says quickly. She’d hacked the system late last week and assigned herself into the room already, a new opening thanks to a ‘dishonorable discharge’. Pidge doesn’t care the reason, so long as the room is hers.

“You sure? It’ll be lonely.”

“We can handle that,” Pidge says. Ren nods, a quick jerk of his beak. “Good practice for space, right?”

“You’re a long ways from space, kid.” The officer taps onto his tablet again to submit the completed paperwork. “And in space you’ll be part of a team. Here you go. L-5. Right near the instructors lounge. Need a map?”

 _Not on your life_.

“Yes please,” Pidge says politely.

 

Pidge doesn’t breathe easily until they’re in their new room, the door safely closed and tightly latched. Ren flits off her shoulder immediately, winging onto the sheets piled at the end of the unmade bed. “See? I told you. No one’s gonna think twice.”

“You were right,” Pidge says, rolling her eyes.

“I’m always right,” Ren says smugly. He shifts into a small leopard cat and begins to clean his paws, still sitting on her sheets.

Pidge sets her duffel bag down on the desk. _Her_ desk. Her own room, with a lock. Everything’s gone according to plan. She almost can’t believe it. There’s still a great deal of hard work to be accomplished, but this - the first test - they’ve passed.

“We made it, Ren,” Pidge says, and her eyes gleam behind Matt's glasses. “We’re in.”


	3. pivot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith and Tarryn learn to wait, and to act.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> _a fill for[platonicvldweek](http://platonicvldweek.tumblr.com), day five: change/growth_  
> 
> 
>  
> 
> Please note: I definitely wrote some of this before we definitely learned how small Keith's shack really is inside, and I never went back and changed it. Sorry :)

Keith waits.

 

There’s a cabin in the desert that’s abandoned, empty until he parks his vehicle outside, stakes a claim. The old landlady lives several cities away; near enough to send rent to, far enough that she’ll never come check. The cabin’s barely anything, but so is the rent.

“It looks…nice,” Tarryn says, after she’s sniffed around all the corners, plopped down onto the single lumpy couch. She preens her russet fur as Keith drags in his stuff, shoves his clothes into the one chest of drawers. Unloads the single bag of groceries he’d remembered to get.

“It’ll do,” Keith says. The cabin’s assets aren’t in the couch, nor the single-wide bed, nor the creaky floorboards or unreliable plumbing. The cabin’s assets are its silence, its east-facing windows, and the enormous canvas of blank, corked wall.

_Patience yields focus._

Keith gets to work.

Tarryn helps as much as she can. He drags over the rickety table so she can perch on it, studying his map of pins as he sticks another location into the wall. She rides with him when he goes out into the desert on the hover-speeder bought with his own terms - bartered for, worked for, Keith’s not a thief. Tarryn hops up on his shoulder when he dismounts, fur matted around the little goggles he’d made to keep the wind out of her eyes. She pushes them up with a paw; he tugs up the cloth over his nose to keep the dust out, and they explore.

Bit by bit they map the desert.

Bit by bit they wait.

“It’s gonna be okay,” Tarryn whispers to him, night after night, when Keith can’t sleep but sits up for hours staring at the sky. At the stars, their memorized constellations and galaxies he’s not going to see.

Tarryn bumps into his hip, her claws clicking against the porch. Keith strokes her fur absently, tangles his fingers into her soft coat. She’s been a fox for weeks now.

“Tomorrow,” he tells her, and they go back to watching the stars.

 

Months pass.

 

When it happens, the ship breaking through the atmosphere in a ball of fire is still a surprise.

Keith does everything they’d practiced for: take the speeder, plant the remote explosives, wear the coat with the high collar so Tarryn has something to cling to. He doesn’t know what they’ll find, but he knows they’re ready for it. They’d planned. They’d prepared. They were ready.

It goes smoothly until it doesn’t. The Garrison gets to the crash site first, but they’re totally occupied with whatever was flying the ship. No one’s watching the desert. Keith’s used to that by now and isn’t ashamed to use it to his advantage. He doesn’t owe the Garrison anything.

Not a single thing.

The explosions go off without a hitch. The Garrison guards scatter, their daemons racing alongside. Keith ducks out from the boulder shelter and into the quarantine without a second thought.

Three guards isn’t a problem. Keith takes them out fast and easy; Tarryn trips up two of their daemons, bites another until Keith knocks their person unconscious. Tarryn’s claws dig into his pant legs as she climbs up to his shoulder again, bushy tail brushing against his ear when Keith heads for the man strapped to the gurney. Whoever it is - white hair, muscular chest - must be someone (some _thing_?) pretty important if the Garrison’s sedated him. Keith reaches out. Turns the man’s head so they can see -

They’d planned, but they hadn’t expected this.

“Shiro,” Tarryn gasps. Keith’s voice is frozen in his throat. “But how -?”

_He’s not dead._

“He’s not dead,” Keith manages. It’s plainly Shiro, same cheekbones, same jaw - the scar across his nose is new to Keith but clearly old, the white hair - no, no, now’s not the time, they don’t have time. “Where’s - ?”

“Here,” Tarryn cries, racing down Keith’s arm and to the floor, to the corner where there’s a large cage. Shiro’s daemon is curled up inside, limp and unmoving. If there was any doubt before now it’s gone, it’s totally gone, that’s Rielle but she’s so _skinny_ , her fur’s in silver-streaked knots and she’s not moving and Shiro’s -

Horror turns to anger, vicious and hard. Keith breaks the lock on the cage, prying the door open. Tarryn pushes past his knees, nuzzling Rielle, kneading her nose into the wolf’s tattered coat. Rielle doesn’t move.

“Can you,” Keith starts. His hands hover, useless.

“No,” Tarryn whines. She’s too small to move Rielle even more than an inch.

Keith hesitates. He and Shiro had been close, before this, but that was - at least a year ago, and nothing close to what this would…mean.

…no. He’ll think about it in a minute, they have to get out of here, there’s got to be something Keith can _do_. Keith stands and cuts the straps on Shiro, hoisting him up off the gurney. Tarryn’s still nudging Rielle, climbing over her, mewling at her to wake up. Rielle doesn’t so much as stir.

“Keith,” Tarryn begs. Her little front paws stands out starkly against Rielle’s streaky fur where Tarryn’s braced herself, trying to shake Rielle awake. “Keith, I can’t - ”

“Okay,” Keith says, readjusting his grip. There’s nothing for it. Shiro will forgive him. He’s unconscious. He might not even know.

Shiro will forgive him.

“Right,” Keith says, swallowing, shifting slightly. If he leans Shiro’s weight against the table, maybe he can also - no, he’s going to have to set Shiro down in order to- “We’ll have to - “

“Nope, nope, no no no no no,” a loud voice declares from the quarantine entrance. Tarryn’s head whips up. Keith nearly drops Shiro as a - person - tsks right into the room, cool as you please, ducking under Shiro’s other arm to hold him up straight. The stranger’s daemon saunters right on in at his ankles, a bold yapping terrier.“No you don’t, _we’re_ saving Shiro!”

“Who are you?” Keith blurts. Two other people - students, they’re young - stand in the doorway with their daemons: a small owl hovering over the little guy’s head, a wombat next to the big man’s feet.

“Who am I?” Intruder Guy sputters in offense, on the other side of Shiro. He’s taken half of Shiro’s weight, but Keith refuses to let go. “You don’t - I - what? The name’s _Lance,_ dude, we were in the same class! You were -“

Keith’s not paying attention. The owl daemon shifts on Little Guy’s shoulder, a mouse crawling out of sight under the scrutiny.

“Can your daemon be something else?” Keith demands.

“Uh,” Little Guy says, taken aback, “I - yeah?”

Wild relief surges through Keith. “Can you take Shiro’s daemon?”

“Huh?” Lance says, monologue cut short. Keith nods to the corner; Tarryn’s planted her paws firmly in front of Rielle, growling at the investigating terrier. She stops, startled, at Keith’s attention. “Is that - “

“Yes it is,” Keith clarifies, blunt. “Can you or not?”

“Mine can,” Big Man offers immediately.

“No, _we’re_ saving Shiro,” the terrier declares, and shifts into a massive deer.

Keith blinks. Tarryn gapes. Little Guy buries his face in his hand with a groan. “Lance, no.”

“Lance _yes,”_ Lance says proudly, “Get her on Meri’s back and we’ll be good to go. Unless you want an elephant - “

“We got this,” Big Man’s wombat says. She shifts into a puma and pads over. Tarryn scampers out of the way and the puma peering into the open cage, then gently rolls Rielle out via a combination of paws, teeth, and nose.

“We’re catching a ride with you,” Lance announces, as the motley crew makes their way towards the door.

“A deer’s not gonna fit on my speeder,” Keith points out. Little Guy’s mouse shifts into an owl again, swooping low in the dark. Tarryn bounds ahead as far as Keith’s comfortable with, checking constantly over her shoulder that the others are following. Big Man’s puma is carrying Rielle easily by the scruff of the wolf’s neck. It shouldn’t be possible, but Keith refuses to think about how much weight Rielle’s lost, how small she’s become. Shiro, though, has gained pure muscle; the man’s a deadweight, heavy between them, and Keith could absolutely have done this all by himself but Lance’s timely arrival is…timely. Whatever.

“Don’t tell me what we can’t do,” Lance shoots back. His daemon, still large, nudges Big Man’s puma along. Tarryn doubles back, zipping at Keith’s heels. “We’ll totally fit.”

“You’re not gonna fit,” Tarryn and Keith echo in unison.

 

Spoiler: they fit.

 

“Whose bright idea was this?!” Lance hollers. Everyone’s hanging on for dear life as the speeder (way too small, way too small), careens through the desert, as fast and level as Keith can keep them despite the extra weight and the five Garrison speeders hot on their tail. Little Guy and Lance have Shiro between them, his head lolling against Little Guy’s shoulder, with Little Guy’s owl’s attached desperately to Little Guy’s shoulder via sharp talons. Big Man perches on the back of the speeder behind them, leaned forward awkwardly with a hand on the back of his daemon, keeping her in place on left wing. Big Man’s puma has Rielle by the scruff of her neck and cradled awkwardly between large paws. Lance’s stupid _still a deer_ daemon balances helter-skelter on the other wing. Tarryn clings to Keith’s neck, goggles forgotten in haste. They fit, but they’re heavy and heavy is slow.

“Can’t this thing go any faster?” Little Guy cries.

“If you’re not holding onto anything essential, be something small!” Keith shouts.

“Lance,” Big Man yells, as the speeder struggles to accelerate further. The breeze whips through his hair, carries his voice away; Keith leans over the handles and Tarryn leans with him, her teeth bared against the wind. “Lance, is a deer still really the best idea?!”

“But I’m _essential,”_ Lance’s daemon shouts back, feelings hurt.

“She’s balance,” Lance starts in loud protest, and clearly none of them are listening and Keith’s gotta focus on other stuff, like losing the Garrison. This part he hadn’t planned for (who plans for a quadrupled rescue mission?), and it’s not easy, but Keith wasn’t top of his class for nothing.

From there it’s a chasing series of taking advantage of gravity (“Big Man - you and your cat, lean left!”), chaos (“Do you even know what you’re _doing?!”_ Little Guy shrieks), and pure blind luck.

“That’s a _cliff,”_ Big Man shouts, worry warbling in his voice.

“Yep,” Keith says, and guns it.

“Hold onto your horses,” Tarryn hollers.

“I am a _deer_ ,” Lance’s daemon retorts, wounded.

Then they’re over, suspended in midair for a time-stopping adrenaline-fueled heartbeat before dropping like stones. Six sets of voices scream in terrified unison. Keith’s too busy counting to whoop along.

“You’re gonna get us all killed!” Lance shrieks, the only coherent string of syllables over Little Guy’s impressive pitch of pipes.

“Shut up and trust us,” Tarryn orders, low for Keith. She’s counting in his ear; she’s breathing with his chest. They’re in sync. They are one.

“No one’s dying today,” Keith corrects, and levels them out in the nick of time.


	4. safe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Home at last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  _a fill for[platonicvldweek, day six: distance/ **proximity**](http://platonicvldweek.tumblr.com)_   
> 
> 
>   
>  The last little update for platonicweek! Thank you all for following along on this short little journey. Some of my favorite little tidbits are in this fic, so it's been a pleasure to finally share them with you.If you liked what you read, please consider leaving me a comment! Comments make my day over here, and definitely inspire me to keep writing. This is the end of the daemon!AU for now, but in future....? :)
> 
> Again, this is not strictly canon-compliant in that I definitely took some liberties with Keith's shack ~~give the boy a space, c'mon~~. This was fun to finally get out here.  <3 Enjoy!

They make it to Keith’s cabin without further incident. Keith parks as close to the shack as he dares, the better to offload a hover-speeder that definitely wasn’t meant to carry ten of them. Little Guy’s - _Pidge_ ’s daemon flies right up to the porch, hooting at the cabin door until Pidge catches up to peer at the locking mechanism. With a flick of her tail Tarryn dismounts from Keith’s shoulder, darting up to the porch rail and then the windowsill to reach the access box and paw in the code. The trio immediately ducks inside.

“Don’t touch anything,” Keith hollers, but Pidge has already found the light switch. Light spills from the windows out into the desert, illuminating their path and every rock previously shadowed from the porch. Keith sighs.

“Need a hand?” Big Man - Hunk offers, as Keith and Lance slide Shiro off the speeder. Hunk’s daemon’s already carrying Rielle up the porch steps, Lance’s _still-a-deer_ following deliberately.

“We’re good,” Keith grunts. It’s eight steps to get inside: two to the stairs, three up to the porch, another two to cross the threshold.

“What do you think happened?” Lance asks quietly, once they’re in. Hunk closes the door behind them.

“I don’t know,” Keith says. Carefully they deposit Shiro on the single-wide bed, his head lolling to the side. Hunk’s daemon gently settles Rielle to the floor by the bed, in a sea of blankets Lance’s useful daemon rips off the couch and stamps into a nest with her hooves.

Lance doesn’t know when to let it go, hovering even after they’ve set Shiro down. “His arm - “

“Shut up,” Keith snaps.

“Is he going to be okay?” Pidge asks, from the foot of the bed next to Hunk. Keith grabs a spare blanket from the shelf and drapes it over Shiro; Tarryn’s tugging the corner of the blanket nest up to Rielle’s nose. Neither Shiro nor his daemon so much as stir.

“Yes,” Keith says tightly, because the alternative’s not worth contemplating. He went a year, a whole _year_ \- “Shiro will be fine. Now get out of my house.”

“What?” Hunk gapes. Freed of her burden, his daemon sniffs around the couch, the rug, nosing at crumbs along the floorboards. Pidge’s owl nips at the puma’s ear. “Ow!”

“Stop touching things,” Pidge says sharply, before Keith can.

“No way,” Lance says, shaking his head. “We can’t leave now, it’s miles back to the Garrison!”

“Probably crawling with Garrison guards,” Hunk adds, shivering.

“You gonna give us a ride back?” Pidge asks, raising one eyebrow above his glasses.

Keith looks at them. All three stare back in varying degrees of persuasion: Lance determined and frowning, Hunk pleading, Pidge skeptical. Three daemons blink at him - the owl on the puma’s head, the stupid still-a-deer behind them. Tarryn plops herself in the blankets next to Rielle, her position quite clear.

No way in hell is Keith leaving Shiro after he just found him.

“Fine,” Keith grits out. “Sleep somewhere, I don’t care. Don’t touch anything.”

“Couch,” Hunk hollers, already collapsing onto it.

“No no no, I saw it first,” Lance protests, and belly-flops on top of Hunk. The couch groans.

Pidge rolls his eyes. Keith can relate. “That another blanket?”

“Yeah,” Keith gets out, and pulls his last spare down.

 

Eventually, finally, everyone sleeps.

Pidge’s curled up on the floor in a tiny ball, his daemon a sparrow roosting in his hair. Hunk is also on the floor, having ceded the couch to the snoring Lance. Lance’s daemon ( _still a deer_ , for the love of) folds into the corner by the table, curling around Hunk’s daemon who’s shifted into a badger. Keith drags the kitchen chair over to the bedside; Tarryn hunkers down in the hollow between his feet, keeping an eye on Rielle’s steady breathing just like Keith’s keeping one on Shiro.

It’s a crowded house, but surprisingly pleasant for it.

 

The night ticks on.

 

Hunk wakes up from the floor to a startled gasp, a frantic rustling of blankets, and quiet, low words.

“Hey,” Keith whispers, from above. He’s not talking to Hunk. _“Hey._ It’s alright.”

“Rielle,” a ragged voice gasps, harsh and panicked.

“She’s right here,” Keith responds, overlapping a second voice saying, “ _Shiro,_ Shiro, I’m here - “

Hunk cracks his eyes open just a fraction. Kasja stirs next to him, the bulk of her badger shape perfectly calming where she’s rolled over to curl warm up against Hunk’s side. The predawn light plays across the floor, diluted through a dim blue fog of ridiculously early morning. It’s enough to see by, a soft haze touching the corners of the couch he’s not on, gently illuminating Lance’s dangling foot over the edge, highlighting quiet curves in the empty nest of blankets barely six feet away. Hunk catches a glimpse of a tail as someone - _Rielle_ scrambles up onto the bed, quickfire and easy. A sharp intake of breath; more rustling; the shifting of fabric loose and desperate. Hunk barely breathes.

“Shiro,” the female voice repeats and that must be Rielle, it’s not Keith’s daemon, “Shiro, it’s alright, we’re safe, look where we are.”

“Keith?” Shiro breathes, his words shaking with naked surprise. Hunk peels his eyes open further. The chair legs scrape against the floor as Keith wraps his arms tight around Shiro - Shiro who’s sitting up, the barest hesitation in his shoulders before he’s hugging Keith back just as fierce, just as hard. The metal of his strange hand reflects the predawn blue. _“Keith - “_

Keith’s daemon, the sleek little fox, hops up onto the bed. She noses slightly at Shiro’s wolf with a murmur Hunk can’t make out.

Kasja bumps into Hunk’s shoulder too, pressing up close.

Hunk, feeling as if he’s watching something rather too private, wraps an arm around his daemon and goes back to sleep.

 

Shiro’s gone the next time Keith wakes up, but it doesn’t take long to find him.

The sun’s starting to come up properly when Keith and Tarryn duck out of the cabin, the sky lit in a brilliant Monet of roses, peach, and honey, uninterrupted but for a scattering of deep clouds and the stretch of skyscrapers in the vague distance. Shiro is sitting on a little hill not too far from the porch, Rielle braced between his knees as he patiently picks through the tangles in her fur. Keith wonders how long they’ve been up.

“Going to have to cut some of these,” Shiro’s saying. His voice is quiet in the morning calm.

“It’s alright,” Rielle says, twisting her head around to look at him. “It’ll grow.”

“I can’t believe - “ Shiro starts, choked.

“Shh,” Rielle says, butting her head gently into his chin. “I knew you could do it. And it’s over now.”

Tarryn pads past Keith’s feet, Keith following before the distance between them stretches uncomfortably. Despite his attempts to be quiet, Rielle’s nostrils flare as they approach. She peers around Shiro’s shoulder; Shiro twists too, and smiles.

“Good morning.”

“Morning,” Keith says, sitting down next to him. Tarryn pops up onto Keith’s knee, an echo of Rielle’s posture. “Sleep alright?”

“Sure,” Shiro says easily. The comb he’s using is small, the same one Keith keeps for rubbing burrs out of Tarryn’s fur after tough explorations. Shiro must have found it in the bathroom along with the clothes Keith laid out. "Rielle, hold still."

"I am," Rielle protests, but there's no whine in her words as she settles back down, tucked easily between Shiro's legs. Shiro smiles at her, ineffably fond as he continues the careful work.

There are approximately five hundred and three questions Keith wants to ask: _what happened, what was the Garrison doing to you, why were you there, where were you?_ But he can't think of a way to do it that doesn't seem abrupt, that wouldn't tangle tight in the patches of Rielle's fur or deepen the exhausted weariness in Shiro's eyes. Rielle's so thin and ragged that Keith can barely stand it.

“It’s good to have you back,” Keith says, instead. Tarryn presses her little head into his hand.

“It’s good to be back,” Shiro says. The simple truth loosens knots in Keith’s chest. “A fox, huh?” 

“Yeah,” Keith says, scratching Tarryn behind the ears. His little daemon grins, face splitting, eyes closed. “She was a cat for a couple days straight. I thought that was going to be it.”

Shiro hums in agreement. “You’ve made friends too, I see.”

“They’re not my friends,” Keith retorts, real fast.

“Right,” Shiro says, ducking his head like that’ll keep Keith from seeing his smile. Shiro’s fingers are steady as he combs through Rielle’s fur, the tangles slipping off patient metal tips. “Of course not.”

Keith doesn’t have it in him to be mad. He keeps scratching. Tarryn sprawls over his knee, content.

“Rielle did the same thing,” Shiro says absently, after a while. Rielle butts her head into his hand; Shiro gently holds her still. “Spent four days as a snowy leopard. Chose the wolf in the end, though.”

“Why?” Tarryn asks, ever curious.

“White is too hard to keep clean,” Rielle supplies logically.

“And very visible in space,” Shiro agrees.

“You have changed though,” Keith says, before he can lose his nerve. Rielle’s pelt used to be darker. The strands of silver and flecks of white-brown don’t entirely match Shiro’s hair, but she’s definitely different - less black like midnight, streaked now like the stars. Keith could probably count every one of her ribs if he wanted to. He doesn’t.

Shiro’s hands still.

“What happened?” Keith asks. Tarryn hops off Keith’s knee and presses between Rielle’s paws, careful to avoid Shiro’s feet.

“We don’t know,” Rielle supplies, when Shiro doesn't answer right away. “There was an alien ship. We - we've been - “

“It’s a blur,” Shiro admits, slowly. Keith lays his hand on Shiro’s shoulder, squeezing in reassurance. “We - escaped, somehow, but I couldn’t tell you. The Garrison didn’t believe me.”

“We do,” Tarryn says. “Aliens?”

“Aliens,” Shiro confirms. He frowns. “I know how it sounds - ”

Tarryn pokes her head out from around Rielle’s feet. Keith’s tarp-covered corkboard wall drifts into mind.

“Not as crazy as you might think,” he says.


End file.
